Heaven and Heartache
by amp2013
Summary: It wasn't pain she was afraid of, it was saying goodbye. Sam & Emily post Breaking Dawn ONESHOT


**Author's Note: Hey, guys! The idea for this just wouldn't leave me alone, so here you are. I promise to update ****As If You Hung The Moon ****again soon. Happy New Year!**

She knew it was her time. It wasn't that she was afraid of, it was saying goodbye.

Trapped inside by cool rain, Emily bent over her round belly, reaching into the plastic laundry basket for another bath towel, warm from the dryer. It was then that she felt the sudden wetness between her legs that she'd been waiting all day for. At this point, she was more than nine months pregnant, and more than welcome to the notion of birth. She knew the drill so well, she could have done it in her sleep.

_Finally ready to hatch, sweetheart? _She silently teased her unborn child. Emily chuckled through the first contraction; she knew what to expect, and this was nothing. Pausing a moment to steady herself on the granite countertop, her mouth opened to call for Sam. He'd been man enough to witness the other four. He wasn't about to miss this one.

As though she'd spoken his name aloud, Sam appeared in the doorway of the laundry room ready for duty with the hospital bag slung over his sturdy shoulder. Knowing she could handle herself, he simply took her hand to walk her out the door to the car.

Both were silent as Sam shifted gears backing out of the driveway taking the fastest route to the hospital. Calm surrounded them as he drove; they'd done this before. Each knew their role: moral support on the sidelines and Herculean feminine effort on center stage.

Emily grasped Sam's free hand, unbending the knuckles so she could study the inside of it. His hands had always fascinated her. They spoke of his emotions as clearly as his facial expressions; shaking in anger, curling into fists in a fit of rage, sweaty with nervousness, limp in shock, firm with the burden of authority, soft in a caress while calloused by work, and always passionate in their warmth. He only smiled as she worked, tracing the lines in his palm with her fingertips.

She laced her fingers with his, smoothing her other hand over her stomach while the baby kicked with newfound impatience. The corners of Emily's lips curved upward. "It's okay, honey. I know Daddy thinks you're a boy, but _we _know what a pretty girl you are." Call it mother's intuition or experience; Emily had a hunch.

Sam grinned big enough to split his face in half. The way Emily mothered their children with sweet affection was one of the things he adored most about her. Her hand reflexively tightened around his as the next contraction tore through her body.

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the seat as Sam parked the car in the spot nearest the entrance. He knew to open her door, lift her out gently and carry her in so Gwen, their befriended carrot-top nurse, could find a wheel chair for the Mrs. Uley.

As Emily got herself situated in a sterilized mobile chair, she noted something different about this trip to the hospital. All four of her other children had been born on blissfully sunny days, a good omen Sam had said. Though it had rained earlier today, rained fast and hard. She knew today would be different: a girl among four boys. Yes, this child was very special.

Sam wheeled her down the hall with long, quick strides careful not to hurt her in his haste to get her to a comfortable bed. Once in room two-sixteen, Gwen set about dressing Emily in an easy-access hospital gown. She lay in the hospital bed, hand tangled with Sam's and brow furrowed. There was pain now – enough to make her squirm seeking relief.

"Thanks, Gwen," Emily told the aged woman as she bustled around the room looking for an eighteen gauge needle. "Could I maybe get some pain medication?" She closed her eyes, bracing for the next spasm, avoiding their curious gazes.

Sam watched Emily bring a hand to her face, drained of color, shining with a film of sweat. It was unusual. Her high tolerance for pain was something he'd almost come to pride himself in over the years. Though her torment was his too, those nerves of steel and infinite generosity could almost qualify for bragging rights, he thought.

Shooting meds into the IV, Gwen cast Emily an apologetic smile hoping to ease her strain, then disappeared from the room. Hot, itching fingers of discomfort pinched all over Emily's body. _Just give it a few minutes to work. _

Emily tried to focus on Sam: his white teeth, black hair, dark eyes, lightly creased forehead. The heat she'd grown so attached to faded years ago after Sam stopped phasing. Aaron was two. She'd missed that gushing fire…until she found Sam's first gray hair. The thought made her laugh through the increasingly foggy discomfort; Seth would never let Sam forget his first sign of age catching up with him.

"What's so funny?" Sam asked, looking down at her.

"Found any more gray hairs, old man?" she teased him, earning a smile. Emily beamed up at him.

Caught by surprise, Emily's face contorted in pain when a contraction reigned over her muscles, a knife thrust deep in her pelvis. Their light atmosphere was sucked from the room so quickly it left them both breathless. Sam hovered over her, unsure of what was happening, or what to do. Her hand squeezed his; she whimpered

"Emily? Emily, are you okay?" He couldn't stop the rising panic that bubbled to his lips. She didn't answer, and he smelled blood. The throbbing escalated into steady waves of torment. Groaning, Emily pitched forward to throw up over the safety rail. Her breathing shallowed, the pit of her stomach hollowing out as searing pain cut through her mid-section. She gritted her teeth, holding tight to her unborn baby girl, the edges of her sight fuzzy.

Gwen burst through the door, answering Sam's unspoken plea for help. Sam stood in a corner of the room, afraid to watch, but more afraid not to. Blood seeped through the medical surplus gown, staining the white sheets bright crimson; red like a rose or fire or love. The sight burned his eyes worse than a thousand onions and bleach put together.

Sam felt the light push of hands on his arm. Looking down, he saw Gwen forcing him out into the hallway. His view of Emily was obscured by two people dressed in scrubs and one in a lab coat, all rushing around her much too quickly for normalcy. For a moment, their eyes locked; he could see the raw fear in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, his voice harsh and low.

"She'll lose the baby if we don't hurry. You have to wait out here. I'm sorry, Sam." And she closed the door in his face.

Emily was miserable. Sweat veiled her face, plastering her hair to her forehead and cheeks. The insides of her thighs were sticky and warm with what she assumed to be blood. Though, Emily only knew this because the blaring agony had amplified into a numbness that allowed her the privilege of these details. She couldn't see Sam. Or hear him. Or feel him. _Where is he? _

"Sam," she rasped. "Where-" Her throat closed up, sealing out the words. Emily's bloodshot and worried eyes widened getting as big as fifty-cent pieces. Protectively, her fingers fanned out over her round stomach.

"Mrs. Uley, we're going to help you. You need to lie down so we can save your baby."

Restraining hands, gloved in latex, wrapped around her upper arms, lowering her against the pillow. Sharp pangs squeezed through her lower back, inching down. She'd fight through this. She could have her cake and eat it, too. Her baby would be okay and so would she…

Emily clung to the edge of life with her fingernails. She knew she was at the mercy of the Fates now; her future a coin toss.

Suddenly, there was only one life jacket left. One golden ticket. _You go, _she whispered to her baby girl. _I'll wait here. _

oXo

Samuel Uley held his newborn daughter – wrapped in a pink fleece blanket – in his strong arms, seated in an empty hospital room. It nearly killed him to be there…to live while _she _did not.

He'd managed to lose the love of his life, the mother of his five children- the greatest thing that ever happened to him - in less than thirty minutes for reasons that eluded modern science - and all logic, for that matter. She'd been a faithful, beautiful wife and a loving mother that cared about all of her children.

Sam's eyes welled up.

It was so unfair for her to leave like that when he had to stay, watch over the kids. He knew she hadn't done it on purpose, but…he missed her. Already.

He hung his head.

A folded sheet of notebook paper peeked out from his daughter's blanket. Sam unfolded it gently, his jaw going slack as he recognized the penmanship.

_I'll wait for you. _

_Smile. I need to see that beautiful smile of yours. _

And he smiled through the tears.


End file.
